


Diplomatic Relations

by softestpunk



Series: (Witcher) Christmas Kisses [5]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Kissing, i need these two to rule the world together it's very important
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 04:41:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16847329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softestpunk/pseuds/softestpunk
Summary: Ciri spends the winter in Skellige as part of her duties as crown princess of Nilfgaard, and gets in a little negotiating time with Cerys.





	Diplomatic Relations

“Not a bad view from up here, is it?”

Ciri turned away from the balcony and the dancing lights below to see Cerys with a wine goblet in each hand, one extended toward her. She smiled, accepted the offering, and breathed in the rich, comforting scent of mulled wine before turning back to watching the revelry below.

Peace talks were going well. The winter feast days were long and loud in Skellige, but _fun_.

Ciri even thought she’d seen Emhyr smiling once or twice so far. Perhaps it was more of a grimace.

Either way, she was content as Cerys came to lean beside her, the thick fur of her mantle tickling Ciri’s cheek. “View in here’s not bad, either,” Ciri responded, perhaps a little more wine-drunk than she’d intended to be.

Cerys chuckled, sipping from her goblet. “Yep. You’re Geralt’s daughter all right.”

Ciri grinned. “I like to think so,” she said.

Settling in to her new role as crown princess had been… strange, to say the least, but seeing Cerys wear the crown of her people so lightly made her more confident that it could be done. That _she_ could do it, and wouldn’t have to lose any of herself for the purpose, either.

Cerys was still the warrior queen of her people. She carried a dagger wherever she went.

Afterwards, Ciri had noticed that Emhyr did the same.

She did not have to become the frilly childhood portrait he kept, she assumed, specifically to annoy her. She might not even have been _expected_ to be that.

“You’ll make a fine empress,” Cerys said, as though she’d read Ciri’s thoughts. Perhaps they weren’t all that hard to read.

“You make a wonderful queen,” she responded, turning to sit on the ledge she’d been leaning on so she could look Cerys in the eye while they spoke. “You make it look so _easy_.”

Cerys snorted, sipping her wine again. “Took a while,” she said. “They started taking me seriously when I started breakin’ heads over it.”

Ciri grinned at that. “I don’t think I’m allowed to break any heads,” she said. “Maybe cut them off. I’ll have to ask.”

She would have preferred to do neither unless strictly necessary, though she was also not so naive as to think it _wouldn’t_ be strictly necessary. At some point, at least.

“Nilfgaard’s no fun,” Cerys said. “You oughta stay here a while longer. Diplomatic relations an’ all.”

“Diplomatic relations?” Ciri raised an eyebrow.

Cerys’ eyes twinkled in response, reflecting the clear, starry sky above the isles. “Aye,” she said, leaning in.

Ciri gasped as their lips touched, gripping the edge of the ledge she was sitting on with one hand and reaching out with the other, cupping Cerys’ cheek. She’d wanted this all night, but she’d been starting to think Cerys just wasn’t interested.

Apparently, she’d been wrong.

Cerys tasted of mulled wine and honey and something earthen and salty and so like Skellige that it was uncanny, as though she was made of the very sand of the beaches, woven with seaweed and fresh air and the magic that hung all around this place, bright and fizzing and wonderful.

Ciri gasped as Cerys’ tongue swiped over her lips, but she parted them eagerly, letting the kiss deepen as a coil of heat tightened in her belly.

“Much rather negotiate with you, if it’s all the same,” Cerys murmured as the kiss broke, her lips brushing against Ciri’s with every syllable.

“I’m not sure I’m allowed to make promises,” Ciri said, her cheeks flushed, the excitement of all the possibilities in front of her making her heart pound in her chest.

“No promises,” Cerys agreed. “Just stay a while?”

Biting her lip, Ciri nodded eagerly.

Yes. She’d stay a while.


End file.
